Blogstipation

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Boy oh boy. It’s been over a week since I last blogged. I’ve been all stopped up, you see. The ideas for these teeny, tiny little nuggets of nothingness have come to me at the most inopportune moments; moments when I can’t simply stop everything and let them out. No. I’ve been forced to hold them in, and, well, we all know what happens when you hold it in.

 

You become Blogstipated.

 

That’s right; I have so much to say that now I can’t say it, and no amount of mental Pepto will unclog this plumbing.  I mean, shit, there’s such a potpourri of material out there for cynical folk to write about that it can get pretty goshdarned overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that I often end up throwing my arms up in surrender and perusing 4Chan for funny new kitty memes and threads in which people ask other people to rate them naked (whereupon everyone invariably ends up posting photographs of mutilated genitalia or autopsy photos. Oh yes. Go /b/). Once I get off track, I just promise myself I’ll “do it later” or “when I get a chance”, and then I feel that rumble in my belly – that dull ache. Finally, when it gets so bad that I’m nearly doubled over from the pain, I plant my ass in front of the computer and…

 

Nothing.

 

I’ll fart out a few sentences, relieve the pressure, but I know the relief will be short-lived, and, eventually, I’ll find myself sitting here again, sweating like a priest at Chuck E. Cheese, waiting-praying- for the words to finally squeeze their way out and plunk onto the page. And, in time, they do, and, as I breathlessly  make a promise to never let myself get that backed up again. I promise that I’ll add more mental fiber to my reading diet, and that I’ll lay off the gossip pages and fluff news sites that I devour like tasty, stinky cheeses from far-away lands, but these promises ring hollow, and, as the days pass, and I feel those ideas backing up in me, competing for limited real estate with healthy portions of TMZ and Joblo.com. I’ll find myself here again, guts churnin’, pain hard and deep, desperately trying to it pinch it all out in a comprehensible loaf. And it’s all for you, dear reader.

 

It’s all for you.

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